Starfallen
by Teleri Sina Atari
Summary: A Warrior from the stars, descends on Skyrim. Fates will intertwine. An old adventurer,a lost soldier with his ship and AI and the threat of dragons upon the world and a civil war that threatens to tear Skyrim apart. First Fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

Starfallen

 **Halo belongs to 343i and Microsoft, and Elder Scrolls series belongs to Bethesda Studios.**

Fredas,3rd of Second Seed.

Erngor Fair-shield had been adventuring for three decades by now. His journeys had taken him from the cavernous depths of the Dwemer ruins in Reach to the frostbitten mountains of Hjaalmarch. He had fought bandit clans, and survived numerous encounters with vicious Hagravens and foul necromancers. In short, there was very little in Skyrim that could surprise the veteran wanderer.

The night was dark and the only light for miles around was his little campfire that served to keep away wolves and the occasional wild bear. In any case he kept his ebony war axe close, he was confident that he could take on a few bears on his own. By his camp, were the Guardian Stones, ancient monoliths with the engravings of the constellations above. A person under the signs of such stones received gifts of strength and mind, how it did so was mere speculation at best. When he had first left Helgen to explore the world, he had taken up the sign of the Warrior from this very stone, guiding him in the art of combat through the years to come. Decades later, he was now retiring to a silent life in his village, age had gotten the better of him. He could feel it his in bones that the strains of a life on the road was soon going to become intolerable for him. Sighing again, he shunned these thoughts and reassured himself that he still had a few years in him.

He lay there gazing upon the stars and noticed a shooting star whisp past the others. Shooting stars were signs of luck, he closed his eyes and wished for the well-being of his Shield brothers back at Jorrvaskr. Looking back at the star he saw that it suddenly changed course, it was growing larger now. A trail of fiery smoke could be seen in its wake as it steadily took the form of a fireball falling from the heavens itself. "By Mara", Erngor whispered, his instincts screamed that something was approaching. By now the fallen star was heading for the foothills of the holy mountain.

Erngor got up, and brushed the dirt from his Nordic armor. He picked up his enchanted hunting bow, and checked his quiver to make sure his arrows were intact. Satisfied he picked up his war axe and hung it on his waist. The star struck the mountain side, the impact could be seen even from this distance, and sent an aftershock that swept through the forest. Erngor quickly stomped on the firewood which had its flames taken out, extinguishing the last traces of the flames and swept some dirt over it. He made a quick estimate of the direction and distance, give or take it was a half-day trek till he got there. Muttering a silent prayer to "Stendarr" to oversee him, he set out towards the foothills.

 **24 hours ago, Forerunner station. 80 light-years from Ectanus 45.**

Spartan Regan, was having a bad day. Escaping from a forerunner installation, he was now being pursued by literal swarms of Strato Sentinels.

"How long till we can jump, Clair?" he shouted at the only other occupant of the Sahara class prowler as he made his way to the bridge and the captain's chair. Beside the command chair on a glowing pedestal a blue orb of light materialized before taking the form of a tiny woman, in a summer dress, and a hat. Sixth generation UNSC AI, CLR-056T or Clair spoke, "One minute and twenty seconds, Spartan".

"Just hurry it up", replied the Spartan in Venator armor.

"Drives warmed up, plotting slipspace vectors, transtioning", announced Clair.

Just then an explosion rocked the ship, Regan hung on to the chair as sparks flew all over the place, the terminals on the brigde blinked on and off, and Clair's hologram flickered for a second.

"Damage report, Clair! What the hell was that?", shouted the Spartan almost losing his calm.

"Unknown, Spartan. Some kind of energy pulse, from the station. Slipspace drive is going haywire, comms are unresponsive. Extensive hull damage, shields at 10%. Whatever it was, got us bad, I am transitioning us to normal space. Hold on", said the AI.

The blue and black faded as stars came into view, the pitch black of space reappearing as the ship exited the eleven dimensions of slipspace.

"Where are we, Clair?", said the Spartan as he looked past the viewing ports noticing a planet with blue and green dotting its surface, a garden world maybe even a human colony if he was lucky.

Clair brought up an image of the system on the holotable, before projecting herself on the table. She walked across it, and in a gesture of zooming in brought up the planet and marked the ship in its gravity well. "I can't be certain Spartan, I am cross-referencing the constellation here with the star charts, but I am getting nothing. The pulse seems to have messed with our slipspace vectors, catapulting us in a random direction. In fact we are lucky that we managed to exit slipspace at all, our main thrusters are toast. And the hull is compromised, we are leaking air Spartan".

Spartan Regan pondered upon his options, they weren't in UNSC space anymore. "To end up in the middle of nowhere", he sighed.

"I know, I have already launched STARs for recon, taking positions just about now", she closed her holographic eyes, "STARs report multiple light signatures matching cities, there is life down there, Spartan".

Regan looked at the projection of the planet and the readings displayed. An earth like atmosphere, with large landmasses and oceans. He needed to make it there, it was only a matter of time till the prowler turned into a floating death trap for him. His best option was to make contact with the locals and see if he can get access to FTL communications if there was any, to make contact with High Command.

"We are making Landfall, Clair. Do you think you can get the emergency thrusters to push us further into the gravity well?".

"I think I can Spartan", said the AI looking away, "But, you won't make it in here, the hull is compromised, re-entry will surely kill you with our radiation shielding barely holding, and the Pelican's broken for now".

"Hmm, alright. How about the SOEIV pods, we should still have one in the drop bay, right?", asked Regan.

"Yes that would do", nodded the AI ,"You have twenty minutes to prep, I will leave a subroutine to monitor the ship after we leave. head to the bay Spartan, yank my chip from the terminal there".

 **UNSC Sahara Class Prowler, Merina. Drop Bay Armoury.**

The doors to the drop day slid open and Spartan Regan walked in, putting on his Venator helmet with its blood red visor slits. The Venator variant of the Mjonlnir Gen2 was made by Lethbridge Industrial as their flagship product. Designed for Hand to Hand combat and stealth, it was a perfect armour for blackops operatives like himself. He approached the requisition station there, and selected a Designated Marksman's Rifle or DMR, a custom shotgun enhanced with forerunner mechanisms, "Blaze of Glory" the description read. Loading the DMR, and Shotgun into the SOEIV pod, he pulled up some ammo for each, and some frag grenades. Then he checked the jackal gauntlet on his wrist which was something he liberated from the Jackal pirates he encountered on the Forerunner station.

"Are we ready, Clair?" he called out to AI.

"Yep, ejecting now". From the data terminal, a crystal matrix chip ejected. Regan, took the chip and slid it into the slot behind his helmet. As soon he did, a feeling of cold mercury, filled his head. Clair had been with him for three years now, and he still couldn't get used to that feeling.

"Lets go, Spartan", chimed Clair inside the helmet.

 **Ten Minutes after Landfall, Unknown Planet.**

After his rough landing, Regan pounded on the button for the Hatch release. Plastic explosives lining the hatch detonated, blasting the hatch a few metres across. Regan, pushed himself out of the pod and secured his weapons on the magnetic plates on his back. He gazed at the destruction his landing had created, rows of trees mowed down,and a large crater by the hillside which he was up against.

"Are you alright, Spartan?", chimed in Clair.

"Still alive", he replied, "How's the ship? Did it make it intact?".

"Yes, our prowler has touched down in the hills, west of here. I can't exactly assess the damage from here, but my subroutines do report that it made it intact. I had rerouted all the power left to the pulse lasers to keep any locals away, all access points are secure and on lockdown, nothing is getting close to the ship".

Regan raised an eyebrow, at the mention of the lasers, those things had overkill written all over them. Noting how paranoid Clair was, he mentally sighed. Just then his HUD's motion sensors lit up and flared red showing multiple contacts in the vicinity.

Bandit Chief, Ugrob Nazval, led his small troupe towards where the star had fallen. It was a fairly easy task, a wide gorge of fallen trees and earth led to a wide crater in the mountain side. He brought up his orc sword and shield up to prepare for anything that might be lying in wait there.

"Careful lads", he warned his subordinates.

In the clearing standing beside a large egg-shaped metal coffin, was a huge man. He was wearing complicated armour that reminded him of Dwarven automatons. Yet it was pitch black like the night, with orange streaks running along it. Its helm, had two blood red glowing slits.

"What is the name of Malacath is that?", he muttered. Was it even of this realm?, an atronarch maybe?, then its conjurer had to be close. He looked around but did not sense anyone else. Suddenly he remembered the tales of the oblivion war he had heard as a cub, back in the strong hold. Of Daedra,or Dremora, humanoid minions of the Daedric prince Molag Bal. Yes,it had to it, there was evidence that it had fallen from the skies, maybe phasing out of oblivion, there was no telling what this monster could be here for.

The monster on seeing the group approach, took up a defensive stance and unsheathed a black dagger from its holster on the breastplate.

Ugrob shouted a battle cry,"Kill the Daedra, before it claims our souls!". One of his men, charged up to it with his Dwarven battle hammer. In a seemingly graceful yet swift motion, the Daedra gripped the hammer midair, and redirected its momentum such that it missed him. At the same time, he plunged the dagger into the poor nord's gut. Seeing the bloodshed the rest of the grouped snapped and took up arms. Archers released their arrows at it, only to have them strike a golden ward hugging its body. The shimmering warrior jumped, flames bursting from behind its shoulders, soaring into the air it pulled back its arm and came crashing down, pounding into the ground, the very ground gave up under the impact and sent three men to their deaths who were too close, flinging their bodies away like rag dolls. He then, in a flash got hold of a nearby Khajit Mage, by its head, and swung the poor thing like a club into another Breton mage who had just finished casting an oak-flesh spell over himself. He then took out a device from his back and with a thunder like noise, fired upon the two mages. Their bodies flickered and dissolved, as they disintegrated into orange wisps fading into the air.

The bandit-chief was horrified by this sorcery, as he saw before his very eyes the oblivion claim the souls of two of his men. And this thing had killed off the rest. A part of him wanted to flee, but he knew that Malacath wasn't that forgiving, a weak orc was as good as dead one. So, calling upon the Orc lord he charged this other-worldly foe, with a raised shield. The monster just stood there, and finally when he got close, he slammed into the shield. It was as if the gods themselves had struck him down, as his bones cracked under the strain, and the shield shattered. Unwilling to give up, Ugrob attempted to strike its legs, with the sword in his other arm. But the monster saw it coming, he jumped and dodged the strike at the same time, gripped Ugrob's head, and smashed him into the ground, driving him into the dirt.

"I concede, I concede", shouted Ugrob, howling in pain. "I cannot best you" he said, shame pecking away at his soul as he prepared himself to face imminent death. The Daedra was taller than him by a head and half. He clutched the helpless orc by the jaw and lifted him to face level. Ugrob's eyes met with the red slits glowing in the dark in contrast to the ebony black of his armour.

"Where am I ?", It spoke in a gravelly voice.

"In the province of Skyrim, in Tamriel", Urgrob spoke coughing up blood, "Kill me, claim my soul and be done it, demon".

"Hmm, not the first time I have been called that", the dark warrior said softly in its dark voice.

He dropped the broken orc on the ground, sparing his life. Ugrob saw him, walking away into the trees,his form shimmering as he suddenly vanished into thin air.

 **Thanks for reading guys, I am Teleri and I have been reading halo fan-fiction here for three years by now. Honestly I have been too lazy to write anything. So i guess this is kinda my first attempt at writing something on this site. This story is a one-shot, so I don't think I will be working on this further, Culture shock has always been the reason I have loved reading crossovers. And since I saw that Elder scrolls didn't have much to show here in the halo section,so I thought I did contribute a bit. Hope you guys liked it, leave some reviews as to whether you liked it.**


	2. Chapter 2: Helgen

**CHAPTER 2: Helgen**

Erngor weaved through the woods to reach the clearing where the star had fallen. Upon reaching there, his face contorted in disgust and horror, dead bodies were strewn on the ground. Some of these bodies were twisted and mangled into forms that could only be described as grotesque. Erngor pushed on to the more intact ones. A dead Nord lay in the centre of this debacle, his Dwarven battle hammer still clutched tightly in his right hand, the veteran smiled proud that even in death this Nord brother never let go of his weapon, a good death for a warrior. But then, what was it that had caused the death of so many armed warriors here. Erngor flipped the body, onto its back.

"Poor guy got stabbed in gut", muttered the veteran. He reached for the wound, to see if he could find out what type of blade could have been used to cause the death, or if it were a blade at all.

Over the years of adventuring, Erngor had picked up on the art of hunting. In fact ten years back, he had taken the ancient trial of a Nord hunter. And after facing off the guardian spirits of various beasts he had earned the blessing of 'Kyne' from his mentor. An amulet that he still wore, tugged away inside his Nordic armour. A hunter, besides his skills with a blade and bow also needs to have a keen perception. Chasing the prey requires the hunter to understand the ways of the predator. The wounds that a fallen prey has can reveal if the attacker was a mere cave bear or a vicious troll, and such observations can save one's life.

"Such precision", remarked Erngor as he saw the clean wound, the responsible weapon was probably a dagger or large knife. It was no mere beast that did this, Erngor's best guess was an assassin, but the others weren't so clean. Some of the deaths there were caused by brute force, some of them being flung into trees. The shock of the impact having seemingly squeezed the very souls from their bodies. And then there was the root of all these problems. The contraption that had fallen from the skies lay in a fairly large crater by side of the mountain, the ground around it charred and fuming. It was weirdly egg-shaped, and black as ebony. Erngor cautiously poked at it with his boots, a dull metal thump sounded in response. If he was to be honest, it looked like a coffin, with the interior just large enough for a man, an unusually large man to fit in if need be. He could see glowing runes inside, but couldn't make anything out of it. Something about it felt so otherworldly yet familiar that couldn't quite point a finger on it. It lacked the graceful curves of Elven contraptions and it was not Dwemer inspite of how much it reminded him of the mechanisms inside various Dwarven ruins that he had visited baring the extravagance of course. He decided to finally leave it alone. His adventures in Dwemer ruins and ancient nord crypts had taught him that curiosity unchecked could mean the death of a man. Many explorers failed to realise that and now their corpses and skeletons only serve to warn unwanted visitors to be wary of trespassing.

Erngor got up and saw blood from earlier staining his gauntlets. He walked towards one of the dead bandits, his body pinned up against a tree trunk. He tore a piece of cloth from its cuirass and wiped his gauntlets with it. Looking back at the scene he grumbled, and prepared to leave, letting the now blood stained cloth fall on the corpse. He would be travelling towards Helgen again, whatever that had emerged out of the alien coffin couldn't be very friendly if the first thing it did was tear people apart. He was no coward but he was aware of his limits, this creature was not his to pursue. But who knew, maybe he would eventually encounter this being one day. Shifting uneasily with the thought, he drew his axe, and set out, intent on reaching Helgen before sundown.

"Spartan, you did not have to kill those men", spoke a feminine voice.

"They attacked first", replied the Spartan thinking about the humanoid calling him a 'Deadra', "And besides did you notice?"

"Yes I did", interrupted Clair, "There were humans among them, I really don't know what to say about the others". Inside his HUD, images of a man sized cat with an orb of light in it paws, and the last thug that the Spartan interrogated, appeared. "But I guess they are native to this planet, the UNSC has no records of this system not even on the classified list of ONI locations I have on me."

"A splintered colony maybe", suggested Regan.

"Unlikely, any colony formed during the expansion should have access to atleast rudimentary space travel, STARs did not record any satellites in orbit. And those swords and arrows? Such weapons haven't been seen since the medieval age on earth".

"Its possible that the colony ship crash landed with very few survivors and without the means to sustain the technology for long, they eventually lost the knowledge over time. Or something disastrous pushed them back into the dark ages".

Regan, heard Clair sigh at the theory, "Those are wild assumptions, soldier. The most likely scenario involves forerunner involvement, a late seeding of life on this planet possibly."

After the war knowledge of how the forerunners seeded life after the firing of Halos had become commonplace. As ONI, Regan and Clair had special access to more sensitive records like the war with ancient humanity and the flood.

"That could partly explain the walking cat that you swung around like a man sized cudgel." Clair's smirking face popped up on the corner of his HUD "Possibly forced evolution, meant to branch off from basic Humanity, who knows".

"Great", Regan said as he slowed down his pace, "Are you telling me that the pulse from that forerunner installation, knocked out our slipspace drives and sent us tumbling into a planet scale science experiment?"

"Don't over speculate, Spartan", chided Clair, "Let focus on surviving for now, alright?".

"Okay", replied Regan, "So how should we go about this?".

"Well Spartan, I think we need to look for settlements. If we want to get home, we need to be able to contact the UNSC. After the encounter I am sceptical about finding any super luminal communications on this rock, else we need to head to the ship to see if we can fix our own."

"Lets not give up hope, Clair".

The Spartan in Venator armour came to a halt as he approached the edge of the treeline. He crouched and activated his active camouflage, shimmering and then vanishing as he blended into his surroundings. A horse driven carriage was carrying a group of people, seemingly prisoners in handcuffs. Regan, eavesdropped on the conversation as his augmented hearing picked up on the distant chatter.

A man in a rough spun tunic spoke, "So what's wrong with him" gesturing towards another man in rather lavish robes "You don't look like a regular thief or bandit".

"Watch your tongue!" shouted a blonde man in blue and brown clothes, sitting next to the man in question. "You are speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king", he announced reverently.

Regan, raised an eyebrow at that. "A king huh?" chimed in Clair inside his helmet "A monarchy?" .

"Quiet, Clair" Regan whispered, irritated. Clair's window on the side of his HUD closed immediately.

"Ufric? Jarl of Windhelm!", gasped the man, "You are the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion in Skyrim. But if they captured you….. Oh Gods, where are they taking us?!" shouted the man frantically.

Regan looked on with heightened interest as the carriage now passed by in front of him.

"Quiet back there", Shouted a man in armour reminiscent of Roman centurions back in the history of earth. The carriage now a good distance from him, Clair spoke, "I think you should follow them Spartan. Those men spoke of a rebellion and that means a civil war is raging here. We need more Intel on the local factions if we want to know whom to keep away from and determine our course of action".

"Affirmative", replied Regan as he went deeper into the trees, and started to jog, he made sure that the carriage was within the range of his motion tracker.

 **Helgen, Imperial Garrison.**

Erngor Fairshield walked briskly toward the large gates and walls that surrounded the village. Last time he heard, an Imperial garrison was stationed here. Two imperial legionnaires, stood guard in front of the gates. One of the sentries, noticed the old nord, in heavy carved armour approach with an axe in his hands.

"Halt traveller!", he shouted drawing his steel sword from its scabbard, "This village is under the protection of the imperial legion, state your business here".

Erngor sized up the man. Young, probably around twenty, twenty-five and definitely nervous at his own appearance.

"I am member of the Companions, legionnaire. And this my village, just an old adventurer coming home" he smiled at the lad.

At this the soldier eased up, his composure changing to acknowledge a member of a companions. All of Skyrim revered the warriors at Jorrvaskr.

"All hail Companion!", he chanted, "I did not mean to offend you my liege. But a guard may get nervous if a man approaches with his weapon drawn. Oye, open the gates".

He gestured to the other guard to let the man through. Erngor complimented the young man for his vigilance and holstered his axe. The site of the massacre had left him a paranoid man. And he totally forgot that it might spook people if they saw a man in armour approach with his war axe drawn.

Passing through the gates the old veteran felt nostalgia rush through him at the sight of his village after so many years. His family had long since passed away, infact it was after the death of father that he decided to leave the village and ancestral farm to become an adventurer. He had hoarded his savings to buy a set of bonded iron armour and took the shield and sword that had for long rested above their family fireplace. He had left the family house to their caretaker an old Breton woman who had lived with them for long. He wondered if she still would be there. Actually he wondered if anyone in the village would recognise him anymore.

Just then the gates swung wide open and a horse carriage came through. The villagers speculated at the sight of the prisoners, Erngor could hear parents hastily calling out to their kids and telling them to get inside the house. A crowd formed in the centre of the village as the carriage stopped near a group of imperials, and the prisoners got down.

Erngor frowned as he noticed the stone block and the executioner standing next to it. An execution was about to take place. A dishonourable death in his opinion, and he couldn't care less about the war.

"Step towards the block when we call your names, wait in line!", shouted a female legionnaire.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm", a man beside her announced as he read the list aloud.

Erngor raised a eyebrow, even he knew that the Jarl of Windhelm was the one leading the rebellion and if he was captured then perhaps the war was coming to an end. As a fellow Nord he scoffed at the idea of a death here instead of the battlefield. But if the damned war would end then it was not his to object. The crowd was already abuzz with chatter as the Jarl stepped forward, his mouth gagged.

"Relof of Riverwood", a man came forward hurling obscenities at the imperials there.

"Lokir of Rorikstead"

"No! I am not a rebel. You can't do this!", the man shouted frantically, "You're not gonna kill me" he declared, sprinting away.

"Halt!", shouted the female legionnaire "ARCHERS!". Two sentries behind her took out their bows and unleashed their arrows at the convict. The man, fell unceremoniously to the ground as the arrows found their mark on his back.

"Anyone else feel like running?" questioned the woman rhetorically, silence was the expected reply.

Next the man holding the list, called up a Redguard.

"Captain what should we do? She's not on the list".

"Forget the list", replied the woman, "She goes to the block".

"By your orders, Captain", he replied, "Follow the Captain, prisoner".

It seemed General Tullius the military governor himself was present. He was talking to Ulfric, "But a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder the high king and usurp his throne" he said.

Erngor was taken aback by this comment, "The high king, dead? And the voice?" he wondered. He had heard stories of the Thu'um, an ancient nord art of manifesting the power of oneself into a shout. But in this day and age very few knew of this art, the Greybeards in their reclusive monastery were one of the few knowledgeable about this.

As the general walked away, A priestess of Arkay began chanting rites. The Stormcloaks soldier from earlier interrupted her, "For the love of Talos, shut up and get this over with".

"As you wish", replied the priestess slightly annoyed at the interruption.

"Comeon, I haven't got all morning", he shouted. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?", he declared resting his head on the chopping block. His life was cut short as a huge axe, came down upon his neck and liberated the head from the body. The stump rolled across the executioners legs as the female captain pushed the headless body off the chopping block. Various cries of "Justice".

"Imperial bastards".

"Death to the Stormcloaks", filled the air as the crowd witnessed the execution.

"Next the Redguard", announced the Captain. A dark woman, in rags with closely cropped hair came up to the chopping block, her eyes were intense and she had the gait of a warrior. She bent down on her knees and rested her head on the block waiting for her imminent death.

Just then, a sound like no other filled the air. A roar, a cry of something primal, something big. Erngor's instincts kicked in as he took out his bow and extracted an arrow from his quiver, he ran to the walls and listened intently. The imperials seemed to ignore it, as they continued the execution. The executioner was taking his stance as he readied the huge axe. Just then a giant silhouette flew over, a beast a legend incarnate cast its shadow over the village. Erngor, stood there in awe. There was no mistaking it, it had to be. Ancient Nordic tales told of the fierce wars before the empire. Immortal beings of great power with hides strong as steel, and capable of flight and breathing fire and ice and devastating entire cities. The dragons.

The great beast, majestically landed on top of a tower and an ear splitting roar filled the air. And executioner who was about to bring the axe down lost his footing and fell on his back. And then all hell broke loose. Dragonfire, scorched the very earth as the people frantically running about were burned to a crisp.

Erngor, with his back against the wall took aim with his bow and fired. The steel arrow made its way towards it target but bounced off the thick hide. "By the Gods", gasped the veteran. He immediately went to seek cover behind one of the stone buildings.

Magic casters hurled firebolts at the dragon, but it swirved and avoided most of them. And the few that met its mark only angered the beast as dragonfire rained down on the poor mage. There was no escape no way to defeat this monster. Erngor prayed to Stendarr to give him strength, as he put back his bow. He picked up a discarded imperial shield and readied his axe. Shouting he continuously bashed his axe with the shield in an attempt to divert the dragon from the villagers. Apparently his taunt worked, and the monster now on the ground glared at the foolish mortal who dared to challenge him. Erngor stood firm, he knew this was the end but as a Companion he couldn't run when helpless villagers died in front of him. He stared intently at his great foe. Its massive body swayed as it slowly approached him, perhaps intrigued by the courage he was showing, and in an attempt to perhaps test his resolve it roared. It giant maw agape, the old Nord felt fear resonate in his very bones, it took all the courage he could muster to stand his ground. The dragon seemingly impressed, pulled back and readied to bring upon its fiery breath. Just as it was going to strike, Erngor saw a huge man in ebony black armour with crimson highlights glowing ethereally along the plates, come crashing down upon the dragon's head. The very impact sent shockwaves around as Erngor braced his shield. The devastating blow grounded the dragon into the earth. The warrior in black, now on top the dragons head, swiftly raised it arm, a blade of light materialised on the gauntlet and he shoved the blade into the dragon's right eye. The beast still conscious, roared in pain as the blade burned into its skull, thrashed about wildly.

A Dragon was an immortal being, its voice was power itself. A mere mortal seeking to threaten it? I wouldn't have any of it. It swung its tail at the black warrior, as it heaved its body about. The warrior jumped again, avoiding the attack and drew a large device from its back. It took aim at its injured eye again, and then a thunderous sound echoed throughout as the great beast was pushed back. The right side of its face glowing and disintegrating until a sizable chunk seemingly crackled into an orange mist. With a final roar of defiance at its foe, and its right eye literally disintegrated, it unfurled its wings and took flight, disappearing behind the mountains.

Erngor Fairshield stood in awe, the warrior in black had triumphed over a dragon, a mythic beast from the legends. Such a deed was unheard of since the times of Talos himself. What was this man? Was it a man at all? The warrior stood there like a statue, as if contemplating. Its armour was strange and otherworldly, the helm did not seem to have any slit for seeing through. Instead the same ethereal crimson that flowed on his armour could be seen on the helm where a visor slit would be.

"What are you?", shouted Erngor as Imperial guards started flooding into the area. Everyone had seen how it had fended off the monster, and inspite of how grateful they were for their lives, they couldn't help but feel fear. And fear was a powerful emotion and inspired hostility.

He approached the old Nord, and said, in a gravelly voice, "If you want to know, meet me later tonight outside the walls".

Just then the Imperial captain appeared sword in hand, "Halt, demon".

But the warrior did not stop, he dashed like the wind and jumped over the walls disappearing amidst the chaos. The guards utterly confused, rushed for the gate in an attempt to pursue the warrior. Erngor considered his options, he had originally planned to retire in Helgen but it seemed like Arkay had plans for him. The fallen star, the return of the dragons, and the black warrior all this couldn't be just coincidence. He needed to return to Whiterun and inform the Jarl of the impending danger of dragons, and maybe the companions would offer counsel on this warrior that appeared. But, it had told him to wait for him. Guards were crawling all over the place, they had seen the warrior speak to him. If he didn't leave now there was a chance that the legion might arrest him to search for information. Making up his mind, Erngor wills himself to leave again. He would stay close to the village for now. And if the warrior didn't not appear by tomorrow, then he would make haste for Whiterun.

 **Well, that's it for now. I did say that this was supposed to be a one-shot, but rethinking this, I want to give it a try and work on a full length fic. So please bear with me. We are heading into the main arc now. While picturing Erngor think of the Old nord champion in the trailer for Elder scrolls Online, I believe he was wearing Carved Nordic Armour at least that's what it seems to me since I haven't played Elder Scrolls Online. We will eventually go into more detail for our Spartan. And since dragons in lore are harmed by proper arrows and such, I expect AP bullets to do some damage, though for lore reasons I want to keep it such that only Heavy weapons, or melee will satisfactorily kill a dragon. Oh and I mostly revealed the race and gender of the Dragonborn here, cookies to those who guessed it. Leave a review if you liked it.**


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